


Signs Point to Yes

by guineasaurusrex



Category: South Park
Genre: Canon ages, Craig's Gang, First Kiss, M/M, horrific relationship advice from eric cartman, rated for language, supportive tweek, there are zero brain cells in this relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23823901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineasaurusrex/pseuds/guineasaurusrex
Summary: “I’m just trying to appreciate my boyfriend!” Craig slammed his locker shut. “Is that a crime?”“You always appreciate me!” Tweek screeched back, which by Craig’s estimates made this the most backwards argument of all time.-----The girls read Craig's future, prompting the world's most unnecessary change of heart.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak
Comments: 37
Kudos: 287





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You've heard of out of season Christmas fic, now there's out of season... post-Christmas fic? My only excuse is that I watched the "Marjorine" episode over winter break and only just now got around to finishing this.

As far as Craig was concerned, putting students in detention on the first day back from winter break should have been illegal. It wasn’t like he’d even done anything especially bad this time—someone had made the mistake of describing their time off as _Christmas break_ at the welcome back assembly, and Craig had been a bit too obvious about rolling his eyes at the ensuing freak out. _“Do you think Christmas is the only fucking holiday that matters?!”_ PC Principal had asked, which had to count as entrapment or something. Craig had answered _“Yes?”_ without missing a beat, because _really,_ who wouldn’t? You couldn’t set a kid up like and expect them to not respond.

To make matters worse, he wasn’t spending detention alone. A cluster of girls were grouped together on the opposite side of the room, whispering to one another and bursting into occasional fits of giggles despite Mr. Mackey’s repeated warnings to stay quiet. Craig didn’t know what they’d done to end up here, but anything that involved that many getting into trouble at once had to be pretty bad. It was a miracle the school was still standing.

He looked at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time since he’d arrived, seeing it was only ten after three. That left a whole two hours and fifty minutes to go. How was he supposed to survive? He didn’t even have homework to distract himself with. Unlike _some_ faculty members, Mrs. Nelson understood the sacred rules about grace periods after holidays. Loading students down with assignments while they were still reacclimating from their small taste of freedom would have been pointless for everyone involved.

Desperate for something—anything—to make the afternoon go by faster, Craig tried counting seconds in his head, like he could force the minutes to pass with will alone. When that got too dull he started doodling an unflattering caricature of Mr. Mackey on the cover of his notebook, then added some rocket ships about to crash into him for good measure. His work finished, he finally chanced another glance at the clock to find that he’d managed to kill... a whole five minutes.

Craig groaned out loud, letting his head droop to rest on the table as another peel of laughter erupted from across the room. The logical part of him knew he shouldn’t look. Making eye contact with girls was dangerous, after all, but curiosity was getting the better of him. He couldn’t imagine what they were all so entertained by, anyway. Mr. Mackey had made a point to confiscate everyone’s phones when they first got here, assuring they’d spend the entire time trapped in mind-numbing boredom.

With nothing better to do he dared a quick peek, only for Lola to catch his eye almost immediately. She waved a hand to beckon him over. “Hi, Craig! Don’t you wanna hang out with us instead of sitting all alone?”

Craig flashed what he hoped was his most threatening glare. _This_ was exactly why he’d wanted to keep to himself; Lola and her friends seemed to think that his being gay meant they were going to be buddies, as if he’d ever have anything in common with a bunch of stupid girls. Before he could turn his head and go back to ignoring them, however, he saw _it._

There, sitting on Annie Knitts’ lap as if it were as harmless as an ordinary piece of paper, was one of the most powerful objects in the universe. Somehow, the girls were in possession of another future-telling device almost exactly like the one they—well, Butters, technically—had worked so hard to confiscate from Heidi all those months ago.

His interest didn’t go unnoticed, and Esther grinned. “He does wanna play with us after all.”

“Let’s read _Craig’s_ future,” Jenny said, causing Craig’s blood to run cold.

“Let’s ask it about him and Tweek!”

“No!” Craig all but jumped out of his seat. He knew the emotional outburst wasn’t doing him any favors, but for once, Craig couldn’t help himself. This was his _life_ they were toying around with here.

Lola smirked, ignoring his plea. “Pick a number, Craig.”

“Fuck you!”

“Two words,” said Lola with such confidence that Craig wondered if just being near the device had given her some kind of clairvoyance by-proxy. “That’s as good as picking two.”

“Oh, and he’s always wearing blue!” Esther added.

Annie followed those cryptic instructions, moving the device in her hands like a woman possessed. Craig took a step towards them, heart pounding. Touching that thing was almost certain death, but he had to stop them. Had to take it away somehow. He looked to the front of the room for help, but found Mr. Mackey chuckling to himself as he continued to scroll through his iPad, too engrossed in whatever was on screen to notice that a handful of fourth graders were about to rip apart the fabric of time and space. Craig was on his own. 

“Are Craig and Tweek meant to be together?” Lola asked as Annie’s actions came to a stop. Craig sprinted forward to close the distance between them, making a grab for the device mere seconds too late. His fingers met only empty air as Annie moved it just out of his reach. 

She wasted no time lifting the flap that sealed Craig’s fate, the red ink mocking him even before Lola read the condemnation aloud. “ _No way!_ ”

“Ooooh! Tough luck, Craig!”

The entire group of them broke out into laughter, as if they hadn’t just brought Craig’s entire world crashing down around him. 

“Detention time means quiet time, mmkay,” Mr. Mackey droned from upfront.

A heavy weight settled in his stomach and Craig sank back into his seat, defeated. Maybe he should have kept trying to take the device for everyone else’s sakes, but he didn’t have it in him to care. What did it matter, anyway? Craig’s fate was sealed. 

Behind him, the ticking of the clock seemed faster, like even it was getting in on mocking him. Craig almost wished detention would never end—there was no way the girls would ever keep a discovery like this quiet. Once everyone had their phones back, the news would spread all over the school. And then… 

Craig swallowed thickly. Logically, he knew he shouldn’t let the answer get to him. _Meant to be_ was a lot to ask from a couple of ten-year-olds, and there were plenty of ways things could go wrong that didn’t imply any kind of disaster. Still… would _Tweek_ see it that way? No one wanted to be in a relationship that was destined to go nowhere. Wasting your time wasn’t appealing at any age. Worst of all, Craig knew it had to be his own fault. Sure, he and Tweek fought sometimes, but it never took them very long to find their way back to each other. He couldn’t imagine wanting to actually break up, not for _real_. Tweek would have had to have been the one to end things permanently, which meant that future Craig must have done something massively stupid.

It was so unfair. This was exactly why Craig and the other boys had been so keen to destroy the time relic the first time around—no one should have this kind of power. Without that stupid prediction looming over their heads he and Tweek might have been able to enjoy the time they had left before it all fell apart, but now even that was ruined. The device had left no doubt: the two of them didn’t stand a chance. It didn’t matter how much he liked holding Tweek’s hand or what a great team they made or how much he found himself laughing, easy and relaxed, when they were together. All of those feelings were rendered inconsequential under the weight of two simple words. Had Craig ever even told Tweek how much he liked him? He’d always thought there would be more time. 

If figured, he thought numbly. His first real relationship, and it was going to be over before it could truly even begin.

* * *

“You’re here late.”

Jimmy looked up from the computer monitor to see Craig leaning against the doorway of the school newsroom. “I could say the s-sa-same. Did you just get out of detention?”

Craig made a noncommittal noise and pulled up a seat to plop down near Jimmy. The look on his face was stormy, even for Craig standards. By now the two of them had been friends long enough for Jimmy to tell the difference between a _something’s wrong_ scowl and a _this is just my normal face_ scowl, and this was clearly the former. Had it been anyone else, he probably would have asked what the problem was, but things were different with Craig. Craig liked to be distracted when he was upset, and generally, Jimmy was happy to oblige.

“I’ve been going over this article for the school paper,” Jimmy explained, nodding towards the screen. “Christie Porter was supposed to write a review of the sixth grade production of _A Christmas Carol_ , but she keeps reworking it into a p-p-pol-political piece about corruption in the mayor’s office.”

Craig raised an eyebrow in what could generously be considered half-interest, which was about as much of an invitation to go on as anyone could hope for from him. “Don’t you write about that kind of stuff all the time?”

“I would have been happy to run the piece as a headline if she’d verified her sources.” And not insulted Jimmy’s editorial skills by trying to hide an article he’d rejected in the entertainment section. “But she expects me to print it without fact checking. Who does she think we are, Fox News?”

Craig didn’t laugh, but again, that wasn’t the way to judge Craig’s interest. The fact that he was still listening said it all.

Jimmy dragged the mouse to highlight a particularly offensive passage. “I mean, come on. What am I supposed to do with this?”

“For, really,” Craig read aloud as he obligingly leaned in for a closer look. No one could ever accuse Craig of being much of a performer, but there were times when his dry, perpetually bored sounding voice felt appropriate—sad excuses for journalism chief among them. “Is there a more fitting metaphor for our troubled times than the idea that a sudden change of heart undoes years of harmful actions and capitalistic oppression?”

“See?” Jimmy asked. Half of the basketball team had ran off the stage in tears, and Christie couldn’t muster up more than moralizing about Dickens? “I’m starting to wonder if she even went to the actual p-play.”

Craig continued to stare at the screen, the look his face surprisingly thoughtful. “Maybe she has a point.”

“Not you too, Craig.” Jimmy was committed to publishing the truth and all, but that wasn’t accomplished by sneaking your opinions into unrelated reviews.

“Not about the politics.” Craig’s hands curled into fists in his lap, his eyes narrowing like he’d just caught on to something brilliant. “But the whole point of that story is that the ghosts only show Scrooge the future so he can change it. The rules in sci-fi movies are the same. When someone sends information to the past, it’s always so they can fix something.”

“Well—”

“That’s gotta be what the people who created the device intended.” Craig rose to his feet, apparently invigorated. “Why else would they have bothered?”

“I d-don’t—”

Craig was no longer interested in listening. “Thanks, Jimmy. I know what I have to do.” 

With purposeful strides, Craig exited the room and left Jimmy staring at his friend’s retreating back. “What the fuck just happened?”

* * *

“Your boyfriend has officially lost it.” 

On the list of ways Tweek never wanted to start lunch period, that had to be somewhere near the top. He nearly jumped, looking across the table as Token sat down his tray and stared at him evenly. Seconds later, Clyde and Jimmy followed suit.

“What’s wrong with Craig?”

“Dude,” said Clyde. “You haven’t noticed?”

“Noticed what?” he asked, although that was a bit disingenuous. It would have been impossible to miss that Crag had been acting a little… _different_ today. To the best of Tweek’s knowledge he hadn’t flipped off a single one of their friends all morning, and he’d even gotten through an impromptu lecture about problematic New Year’s Resolutions without laughing once.

“He’s a pod person,” Clyde said matter-of-factly. “He finally watched too many of those weird space movies and got replaced by aliens.”

“So he’s a little happier than usual,” Tweek protested. “That doesn’t make him _not Craig_.”

“Do you know why he’s late for lunch today, Tweek?” Token asked. “He stayed in class to get his homework done early.”

Tweek winced. Okay, that was pretty unusual. For Craig, getting an assignment done more than five minutes before it was due was about as prompt as it got.

“That’s not even the worst part. I told him I was thinking about asking out the new girl. He—” Clyde swallowed and took a deep breath, as if he were about recount something traumatic. “He said he was sure she’d say yes because I’m such a great guy.”

“ _Jesus Christ_ ,” Jimmy all but whispered. 

“Maybe he was being sarcastic?” Tweek offered.

“ _Tweek._ ” Clyde sniffed like he was fighting back tears and leaned over his lunch tray so dramatically he missed slamming his fist into his mashed potatoes by mere centimeters. “He was _completely sincere_!”

“You know, I haven’t spoken to Craig since yesterday.” Jimmy propped an elbow up on the table, looking thoughtful.

Eagerly, Tweek turned his head in Jimmy’s direction. Maybe Clyde and Token were being ridiculous, but surely he could count on Jimmy 's rationality. “And he was fine, right?”

“Actually,” Jimmy said, “I think he might be dying.”

“ _What_?!”

“He kept saying all this c-c-cr-cryyp—all this strange stuff about the future. Like maybe he was trying to get his affairs in order.”

Token nodded. “That makes more sense than aliens.”

“ _Craig isn’t dying_!” Tweek all but screamed, reaching up to tug at his hair. God, he couldn’t believe this. As if Model Student Craig wasn’t weird enough to throw the entire universe out of whack, now the rest of the group had to outdo him in jumping to wild conclusions? He was no good at being the voice of reason!

Craig was _fine_. A little more upbeat and agreeable than normal, maybe, but that wasn’t so out of the ordinary right after Christmas. A kid doesn’t go from perfectly healthy to the brink of death overnight. (Except, of course, for the millions of ways kids _did_ end up on the brink of death all the time, but still! They didn’t have cause to think Craig might be among them.) Even Craig Tucker was allowed to have good days every now and then. It didn’t have to mean anything serious. 

(…Did it?)

“You guys are overreacting,” Tweek said, fully aware of just how ironic that must have sounded coming out of his mouth. As if to compensate, he scrunched his face up into a serious frown. Until Craig got there to defend himself, _someone_ had to try and be logical about things. “It isn’t _that_ weird for Craig to be in a good mood.”

“No,” Token agreed. “What’s weird is that he’s willing to _show_ it.”

Clyde and Jimmy looked ready to back Token up, but before they could argue further Tweek finally caught sight of Craig walking toward them, lunchbox in hand. 

Or he would have been walking towards them, if he wasn’t being held up by the animated chatter of Cartman. “—I’m telling you, Craig, it’s a seventy-two billion dollar industry! January is the perfect time!”

“The perfect time for a weight loss program with a donut bar.” Even from a distance, Tweek could tell Craig was unimpressed.

“It’s called body positivity, Craig! We aren't shaming anyone's choices!”

“It’s called making sure people don’t actually lose weight so you can keep taking their money. It’ll never work.” Craig shouldered past Cartman to move towards his usual table, and Tweek felt a rush of relief. _That_ sounded like Craig being his normal, lovably cranky self.

Cartman, however, wasn’t done. “You know, Craig, one day people are gonna get sick of all your negativity.”

Tweek expected Craig to scoff or flip Cartman off, ignoring the comment the way he did with just about everything else Stan’s group said. Instead, though, Craig frowned and froze mid-step. “Hey… wait. Maybe I do have some free time this week.”

“That does it!” Tweek was on his feet in a flash, Token at his side. Together, they ushered Craig away from Cartman and over to their table.

“What’s he got on you, man?!”

“Who?” Craig looked mildly confused but didn’t fight back against being dragged along.

“Cartman!” Token said. Wasn’t that obvious? “You just signed on to one of their crazy schemes in record time.”

“Are you saying I’d have to be blackmailed into wanting to help someone?”

“Yes!” Tweek blurted, almost instantly regretting it. Craig was stubborn at the best of times, and prone to digging his heels in out of sheer spite when he felt cornered.

Instead of getting annoyed, though, Craig rolled his shoulders in a lazy shrug. “If you don’t think I should do it, then I won’t.”

“What?! I don’t want you to just do whatever I tell you either!”

“It’s really not a big deal, babe.”

Tweek looked across the table for support, but all he found was Clyde holding his fingers up by his head in what was probably supposed to mimic antenna while Token and Jimmy mimed being choked. When Craig turned their way, they promptly dropped their hands and did a terrible job of acting natural. Some help they were.

Craig settled at the table and focused on his lunch, apparently having decided things were back to business as usual. “By the way,” Craig sounded like he was going for nonchalance, but he couldn’t quite pull it off. “I got some of that new candy you wanted to try.”

By _some_ Craig meant an entire bag that he pulled from his lunchbox and offered to Tweek, who stared down at the individually wrapped chocolates dubiously. “Aren’t these expensive?” There was a reason, after all, that he’d never gotten around to buying any for himself.

Clyde made puppy eyes at him and Tweek responded by throwing one of the chocolates his way, only for Token to reach out a hand to intercept it with lightning speed. The resulting squabble probably would have been funny if Tweek wasn’t so otherwise distracted.

Craig shrugged. “I still had some Christmas money left over.”

Jimmy caught Tweek’s eye as if it to say _See? There’s another red flag._ As much as Tweek would have liked to deny it, Craig’s gift-giving was getting a little excessive. He’d had coffee waiting for Tweek when they’d met up for the walk to school that morning (the new blend from Harbucks that Tweek secretly liked but knew his father would consider the world's greatest betrayal), and between classes Craig had produced a fancy-looking three ring binder from his bag when Tweek had complained his was about to break. Craig was one of the most generous people around—at least as far as Tweek was concerned—but this was beginning to feel like bribery. It was no secret that the Tuckers didn’t have a lot of money, and after the Peru Incident, Craig tended to hoard over his holiday savings like a dragon over gold.

“Craig…” Tweek’s concerned tone was cleary not what Craig wanted to hear, and his smile began to fade. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

“It’s just candy, Tweek. Why wouldn’t things be okay?”

“You’ve given me a present every time I’ve seen you today.” Tweek didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but there was no helping it.

“It’s our first day back in school,” Craig said.

“Yeah… but it’s not like we didn’t see each other over break.” They hadn’t visited every day, but it had been close enough. “You're just—" Tweek made a noise of frustration as he searched for the right words. "You’re not acting like yourself.”

“Tweek.” For the briefest instant, Craig’s usual façade faded long enough for something in his voice to sound tired and the first pangs of true worry latched onto Tweeks’ heart. “I really don’t want to fight about this, okay?”

That’s when Tweek realized his first estimate was way off. This wasn’t happy Craig, coasting on the goodwill of a relaxing Christmas break. This was sad Craig, going through the motions to keep the peace.

“…Okay,” Tweek agreed, even as Clyde shook his head vehemently in opposition. Tweek knew a thing or two about bad days; how one little problem could make everything else seem so much worse. Craig was entitled to not feel okay sometimes without having a production made out of it.

He shot the others a glare to drop the matter and went back to poking at his lunch. As the conversation moved on to other topics, however, he couldn’t help noticing how reluctant Craig was to meet his eyes. Craig didn’t seem _alien_ or like a boy confronted with his mortality. He seemed… _guilty_ , and that thought felt real enough to be scarier than any of Clyde’s conspiracy theories.

* * *

Craig barely believed it was possible, but by the time he stepped off the bus that evening he actually felt worse than he had the day before. After he’d ignored his usual stop, Tweek had tugged at his arm and given him a worried look—something he’d been doing a lot of today—and Craig had made up some excuse about being distracted before hurrying off the bus. It wasn’t much of a lie, but an uneasy feeling gnawed at him anyway. Really, this shouldn’t have been a big deal. He wasn’t doing anything more unusual than visiting the home of a boy who lived down the street from him, but Craig couldn’t shake the feeling that he was about to offer up his soul to devil. In the end, though, what choice did he have? His attempts at handling this on his own had just weirded out his friends and upset Tweek—the exact opposite of what he’d intended. If Craig wanted to turn things around before it was too late, he was going to have to call in an expert.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on Eric Cartman’s door.

And waited. And knocked again. Then waited some more, listening to the sound of the yelling and cursing from inside the house before the door finally swung open.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck do you—” Upon seeing Craig, the anger on Cartman’s face quickly drained to surprise and poorly concealed exasperation. “ _Craig_. Look, I’m really loving the enthusiasm, but we’re not gonna need you until this weekend.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

Like a shark scenting blood in the water, Cartman’s eyebrows rose in interest, but he remained silent. Of course the fatass would make him actually _say_ it.

Swallowing the last bit of his pride, Craig forced out the words. “…I think I need your help.”

“I see,” Cartman said, stepping aside and ushering Craig into the house. “If you’ll just step into my office—”

“I’m not going down to your fucking basement.” God, this was such a mistake. If Craig was really going to go through with this, he needed to just lay everything out and get it over with as quickly as possible. “Look. You’re a total dick and people still talk to you. I need to know how you do it.”

Any fear that Cartman might take offense was erased when he responded by snorting with laughter and shooting Craig a knowing look. “Man, you must have _really_ pissed Tweek off, huh?”

“Who said this has anything to do with Tweek?”

“Craig. Come on. Seriously.”

Craig grit his teeth, face burning with humiliation at the fact that apparently even Eric Fucking Cartman could read him so easily. “I didn’t do anything. Yet.”

He’d intended for the statement to sound cryptic, but to his surprise Cartman nodded like it made perfect sense. “Covering your tracks before you act, huh? Smart. There might be hope for you yet, Craig.”

Why was he doing this again?

“As much as I’d love to help,” Cartman continued. “I’m afraid my services don’t come—”

“I’ll give you twenty dollars.”

“Have a seat, Craig. Let’s _talk_.”


	2. Chapter 2

“And then I tried giving him candy, but it just made him suspicious.” Craig, perched on the edge of Cartman’s bed, kicked his legs in agitation as he finished recounting the day’s events. They’d only been talking for about fifteen minutes, but that was more than enough time for Craig to already regret ever coming here. Getting some simple advice without unnecessary theatrics had apparently been too much to ask, and Cartman was currently brandishing a laser pointer with all the dramatic flair of a movie scientist. Really, Craig should have left the second he wheeled out the whiteboard.

“Jesus Christ,” Cartman said, pinching the bridge of his nose like Craig was causing him physical pain. “You didn’t even use gift baskets.”

“Gift baskets?”

“Forget it. You’re nowhere near ready for that.” Cartman canted his head appraisingly. “We’ve got to start small. Take off your hat.”

“Why?”

“Are you here to get help or just to ask stupid questions? Take off the fucking hat, Craig!”

Craig glared back in response, but reluctantly reached up to pull off his familiar blue chullo.

“Holy shit, you do _that_ to your hair even when no one is gonna see it? Dude, you really _are_ gay.”

“Is there a point to this?”

Cartman ignored Craig’s question and rubbed at his chin. “Now, I want you to think about what’s in your closet.”

“Okay, I’m done.” If Craig was going to listen to gay jokes, he expected them to at least make a little goddamn sense. He started to get up, but Cartman held out a hand to stop him.

“No, like, _literally_ in your closet. I’m talking embarrassing sweaters from your grandma or the shirt your mom drags out for family reunions. Your look is the first thing we have to change.”

“What does the way I look have to do with anything?”

“Only everything! You think anyone’s gonna believe you’re a different person if you go around dressed like that?”

Craig looked down at his clothes. He certainly didn’t see anything wrong with them. “But that’s just superficial.”

“Exactly!” Cartman threw out both hands in a broad gesture but deflated as the seconds ticked by with Craig only staring back at him blankly. “See, your problem is that you’re trying to _actually_ change. What you need to do instead is make people _think_ you’ve changed.”

“There’s a difference?” Craig asked.

“Fucking obviously, Craig. Think about it: if you try to _be_ a better person, you’re gonna have to act that way for the rest of your life. Are you ready to do that kind of work?”

Put that way, it almost sounded impossible. Craig bit his lip. “I guess not.”

“But if you _convince_ people you’ve changed,” Cartman continued, “you only have to keep being nice to them for a few days.”

“Won’t everyone eventually catch on and just get mad again?”

“Right,” Cartman said brightly, as if that wasn’t a problem at all. “And that’s when you go back to…” He aimed the laser pointer at the first item on his hastily drawn flow chart and shot Craig an expectant look.

“Step One: Give people the apology they want to hear,” Craig read.

“Now you’re getting it!” Cartman sounded almost proud, but Craig still wasn’t sold. Fake just enough human decency to keep people from ditching you, immediately squander their trust, then rinse and repeat? That might explain how Cartman’s brain worked, but it couldn’t be a real solution.

“Dude. You seriously think people are stupid enough to keep falling for that?”

Cartman just smiled. “You’re here in my house, aren’t you?”

Well. Craig couldn’t argue with that one.

* * *

A good night’s sleep didn’t make Cartman’s ideas sound any better, and by the next morning, Craig had decided the whole thing had been a colossal waste. Still, he’d invested his time—and more importantly, his _money_ —so he felt an obligation to see it through. He just wished he didn’t have to look so stupid while doing it.

Craig sighed as he stared back at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Dressed in a light blue button-up and a black sweater vest, he appeared more like he was on his way to church than to another average day of fourth grade. Even his hair was more neatly combed than usual. As he finished tying his shoes and lifted up his backpack, Craig cast a longing glance at his hat, laid out forlornly by the sink. The thought of going all day without it made Craig feel practically naked, but there was no proving Cartman wrong by half-assing it now. With a heavy heart, he tucked the hat into his bag and headed downstairs.

The rest of the family was already gathered in the kitchen for a quick breakfast. As usual, Tricia and Thomas were engrossed in their phones while Laura was fixing herself some morning coffee. It was Tricia, seated at the breakfast table and swirling her spoon idly around in her cereal, who noticed him first. Her eyes went wide for the briefest instant before she barked out a laugh. “You know it’s almost New Year’s and not Halloween, right?”

Craig flipped her off as he took his seat, carefully hiding his hand behind the cereal box and just out of their parents’ view.

“I think he looks handsome,” Laura said, filling up her mug and walking over to Craig. “Doesn’t he, Thomas?”

“Huh?” Thomas looked up from his phone, blinking in confusion and seemingly taking his best guess at what his wife wanted him to say. “Don’t hassle your brother, Tricia.”

“I know she doesn’t mean it,” Craig said, folding his hands serenely as he received a scowl in response. “After all, she’s the only little sister I have.”

Whatever retort Tricia was cooking up was sidelined by her obvious disgust at Craig’s attitude, leaving her speechless for one of the first times he could remember. Laura patted Craig on the head while adjusting her grip on the coffee mug just enough to flip the other two off and Craig had to bite down to hide his smirk. Maybe there really _was_ something to this whole selective ass-kissing thing.

* * *

School, Craig knew, was going to be the real test. Yesterday he’d screwed up by coming on too strong, and that wasn’t a mistake he could afford to make again. To really set things right, he needed to practice his new act before he tried it on Tweek, and that meant avoiding him for at least a little longer. Besides, the solo walk to get there would give Craig time to focus on getting into the right mindset. Playing sweet and repentant wasn’t exactly something that came naturally to him.

He sent a quick text to Tweek and the other guys, claiming that he was running late and that they shouldn’t wait for him. Clyde replied with some nonsensical rant about aliens, but Craig didn’t bother responding to that or to the more expected concerned messages from Tweek. Ignoring his boyfriend made him feel a little guilty, but if everything went well he’d more than make up for it later.

When Craig arrived at school, he spotted Tweek in the hall despite his best hopes that the other boy had already gone to class. Their lockers, sorted out alphabetically, were almost right next to each other so there was no dodging him now without arousing suspicion.

“Hey, Tweek,” Craig said as casually as he could manage, shrugging off his coat and opening up his locker to stuff it inside.

“Morning, Craig. Is everything okay? You didn’t—” Tweek took one look at what Craig was wearing and jolted so hard from surprise that he almost dropped his books. “Oh God! Is it picture day already? Did I forget? You should have reminded me!”

“Calm down, babe. You didn’t forget anything. I just felt like doing something different.”

Tweek stared at him, brows furrowing like Craig had started speaking a foreign language. “ _You_ wanted to try something different?”

Craig tried not feel offended by that. “It’s almost a new year,” he said, as if he’d ever put any stock in all that resolution bullshit.

“But you’re not even wearing your hat!”

“So? I thought you liked my hair.”

“But _you_ love that hat.” Tweek’s eyes narrowed with the seriousness of someone trying to impose an important point.

“It’s just a hat, dude.” Craig shrugged, pulling the folder he needed from his locker and shutting the door. “Anyway, I should get to class.”

Tweek opened his mouth like he wanted to say more, but Craig hurried past him and slipped into his classroom, bullet (mostly) dodged. Not sharing the same homeroom wasn’t usually something he thought of as a blessing, but today was all about exceptions. Mrs. Nelson looked up from her desk as Craig entered, and while she didn’t appear _quite_ as shocked by his outfit as Tweek or Tricia had, there was a second when Craig could have sworn she almost choked on the water she’d been drinking.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Craig said. The saccharine tone of voice didn’t suit him at all, but if sincerity was necessary to pull this off then it never would have worked for Cartman either.

To Craig’s surprise, the confusion on her face quickly melted into a warm smile. “Good morning, Craig. Any reason why you’re all dressed up today?”

“Just trying to show how much I value my education,” Craig said. He ignored the frantic whispers of his friends and took his seat without so much as a backwards glance.

The math lesson started off like usual, with Mrs. Nelson going over some long division problems. Craig propped his elbow up on his desk and rested his head against his palm, the perfect picture of rapt attention. In reality, his mind was focusing on anything _but_ what was on the chalkboard; it was impossible to care about math when he still had to plan what he was going to say to Tweek later. If Cartman was right then it shouldn’t make a difference; the key, he’d said, was to pretend to be engaged so that you could goof off in peace.

Of course, pretending would have been easier without the constant buzzing of his phone. Covertly as he could manage, Craig maneuvered his phone to his lap so he could thumb through his recent messages. Unsurprisingly, they were all from Tweek, who’d seemingly decided to move on from pressing Craig about his weird behavior to asking questions about their plans for the weekend. Naming a movie he wanted to see shouldn’t have been difficult—Craig had never been shy about voicing his preferences—but then again, his relationship had never been on the line like this before. What if his taste in movies was the fatal flaw that drove them apart? Craig tried to dodge with a noncommittal response—and some extra heart emojis for good measure—but Tweek wasn’t having it and the rapid-fire string of texts continued.

“Craig,” Mrs. Nelson’s voice cut through his distraction, and Craig scrambled to sit up straighter. “Were you listening to me?”

 _Yes_ , he would have normally said, because Craig’s lies were anything but elaborate. It wasn’t what Cartman would have done, though, so Craig decided to roll the dice and try something different. “Actually, I don’t think I understood that last step. Could you explain it again?”

“Of course.” She smiled at Craig like he’d done something impressive by simply asking a question and returned to the chalkboard to go back over the problem.

Stunned, Craig sat back in his seat as Cartman caught his eye with a knowing grin from across the room. Were adults really this easy to fool?

“Because the two can go into eleven five times, that gives us eleven minus ten and a remainder of one,” Mrs. Nelson said as she rewrote the numbers. “Does it make more sense now?”

“It sure does,” Craig answered, even though he had no clue what she was saying. It probably would have helped if he hadn’t dozed off through most of the other math lessons this week. “Thank you for making it so clear.”

Mrs. Nelson practically beamed at him even as the rest of the class stared like Craig had grown a second head. Somewhere behind him, he was pretty sure he heard Clyde cry out in horror.

* * *

Craig’s next trial came during science lab. Lab classes, as a general rule, were kind of a mixed bag. On one hand, they were a rare and special treat that broke up the monotony of the daily fourth grade grind. On the other, they also meant enduring one of school’s most terrible fates: _lab partners_. Who a person got stuck with would determine how their day would go, and today, Craig had the misfortune of being partnered with Kyle Broflovski.

A lot of kids thought that getting paired with Kyle was a lucky break, but Craig knew better. Kyle was smart, sure, but as Clyde had found out many times before, he also had zero problems with tattling on any partners who didn’t pull their own weight. Still, Craig supposed that talking to Kyle worked well enough as a test run before he faced his real friends.

For the most part, it seemed to be going okay. He’d asked Kyle some bullshit question about how he’d been doing lately and that had somehow led to an entire long-winded rant. Craig chimed in every now and then with an “uh-huh” or a “that’s such an interesting way to look at it,” while Kyle went on and on between scribbling down notes on their worksheet. Craig had always believed that honesty was kinder than lies; telling people you aren’t interested in what they have to say might sound rude on the surface, but he still thought it was a better choice than wasting everyone’s time by pretending. Judging by Kyle’s reactions, though, maybe that wasn’t so true. Maybe people really were that narcissistic. Now there was a dark thought.

“It’s like, I know his dad is driving him crazy, but— “Kyle paused and held out his hand. “Pass me that bottle of detergent.”

Craig did as he was told, hoping that occasionally handing things to Kyle counted as helpful enough to get credit on the assignment. Kyle added a couple drops of soap to their water cup before filling up an eyedropper and slowly dripping the mixture onto a penny. It was probably too late to ask what any of this had to do with science, which was kind of a shame. All this work to save his relationship was really going to take a toll on Craig’s grades in the long-term.

“I just don’t know what he expects _me_ to do about it, you know?” Kyle sighed. “And not being able to help is so frustrating.”

Craig nodded, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Forget getting an A, the fact that Craig was putting up with _this_ should have gotten him a nomination for sainthood. If there was one thing he cared less about than Kyle Broflovski’s day, then it was his friendship drama with Stan Marsh. To make matters worse, Kyle continued looking at him expectantly, like Craig was meant to say something.

After an awkward pause, Craig cleared his throat and gave it his best shot. “Well, uh. Sometimes the most important thing you can do is just be there.”

Kyle was silent at first, and Craig was sure he must have seen through the ruse. The advice was so generic even a fortune cookie would have rejected it, and Craig sounded about as enthused as someone reading off a cue card. Then Kyle smiled like he’d said something profound. “Yeah. You know, you’re right. Just because things are hard doesn’t mean I should give up. In fact—”

Mercifully, whatever moralizing speech Kyle was building up to was cut off abruptly as Mrs. Nelson walked up to their table. “How’s the project coming along, boys?”

“Great!” Kyle answered, proudly holding up their completed worksheet. Craig plastered a smile on his face like he’d had something to do with it. “We just finished the last question.”

“Mrs. Neeeelson,” Cartman whined from a few tables back. “We can’t do our experiment because Kenny keeps stealing all the pennies.”

Craig couldn’t quite make out Kenny’s angry retort, but he assumed it was something along the lines of, “Stop lying you fat sack of shit.”

“Just a minute, Eric,” Mrs. Nelson said before turning back to Craig and Kyle. “Since you two are done, go ahead and clean up. If you get everything put away, you can head to recess a few minutes early.”

Getting rewarded while other students were about to be punished was nothing short of surreal, but Craig didn’t need to be told twice. He and Kyle put their supplies away in record time and then headed for the door, their classmates glaring venomously at their good fortune. For a moment Craig lingered at the doorway, realizing he had the perfect opportunity to flip off the entire group at once while the teacher’s back was turned. Doing so would have been _so_ satisfying, but he knew he had to resist. Channeling every ounce of patience he had left, Craig managed to hold himself back by shoving his hands in his pockets. _Tweek had better appreciate all these sacrifices_ , he thought.

To Craig’s surprise, he found Kyle waiting for him when he stepped out into the hallway. “Hey,” Kyle said, awkwardly scratching at the back of his head. “Thanks for listening to me today. I know we don’t really hang out that much, but… you’re a good friend, Craig.”

Kyle smiled and turned to walk away, leaving Craig in a state of awed confusion. _Holy. Fucking. Shit_. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the empty hall, searching for a witness to back him up and prove that any of this was actually happening. On most days he and Kyle did their best to ignore each other’s existences, but one phony conversation and suddenly all of that was forgotten? Was it seriously this simple? Take off his hat, fake a few smiles, and now he’s everyone’s best friend?

Against all logic, things were going exactly as Cartman had predicted. Which, honestly, was nothing short of terrifying. Usually Craig thought of Cartman as an idiot who happened to get unreasonably lucky—who knew he’d actually unlocked the key to the whole fucking universe?

* * *

When Craig ran into Tweek by their lockers again, the day was more than halfway over. He probably should have been more prepared this time—or at least felt buoyed by his earlier successes—but the truth was that burnout was already starting to catch up with him. His cheeks hurt from all the smiling, and between sucking up to his teachers and pretending to care about his classmates’ babbling, Craig’s goodwill was draining fast.

His mood plummeted even further once he spotted the angry look on his boyfriend’s face. Tweek didn’t bother with a greeting once he stomped over, and instead just held his phone up in front of him. “What’s this?”

“Uh. Your phone?” Craig guessed. From the growl he got in response, Craig knew that wasn’t the right answer. “Texts? From me?” Still no. “Look, Tweek, this will go a lot faster if you just tell me what you’re talking about.”

“ ‘Anything you want, honey’ ?!” Tweek read one of the texts out loud in what was probably supposed to be an imitation of Craig’s voice, but Tweek couldn’t pull off monotone on a good day, much less when he was mad about something.

“Jesus, Tweek. I was trying to be considerate.”

“Considerate? I asked you if we needed to buy Stripe more food!”

“Oh.” Well, if Craig got mixed up then it was Tweek’s own fault for sending him that many texts all at once. “I guess I wasn’t—”

“ _Paying attention_ ,” Tweek finished for him. “I noticed!”

“Honey,” Craig spoke through his teeth, fighting back his rising irritation. “I was _in class_.”

“Were you in class when you ignored me this morning? Or all day after school yesterday?” So much for Tweek letting any of that go. Craig figured he’d been stockpiling little annoyances until he’d reached his limit.

“I’ve had some things to do,” Craig said. “You don’t have to take it so personally. Not everything is about you.”

Except, of course, that this particular thing very much was.

Tweek made one of those adorable frustrated noises that turned out to be a lot less cute when it was directed at Craig. “Don’t give me that. If you wanna blow me off, then the least you could do is say it to my face!”

“I don’t!” Yelling back was absolutely the wrong move, but in the moment it was hard for Craig to help himself. It was beyond frustrating to have Tweek getting pissed at him when he’d been bending over backwards to keep them together. He’d listened to Bebe talk about K-pop fashion for a solid twenty minutes, for Christ’s sake, all in the name of practice. If that didn’t count as a self-sacrificial act of true love, then nothing did.

The raised voices weren’t helping with their privacy, either, and a small crowd of onlookers was beginning to gather a few feet away. Ignoring them, Craig took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. If he could fake his way through conversations with Kyle and those other jerks, then he could definitely do it for Tweek. He forced a wide smile, and hoped that it looked more natural than it felt. “Look, I’m sorry if you misunderstood me. I’m happy to do whatever you want this weekend, okay?”

It was a technique straight out of Cartman’s Deflection 101: focus on future promises you may or may not live up to in order to draw attention away from any bad things you’ve already done.

Tweek, however, was unmoved by the performance. “Now you sound like a fucking robot again! Is that supposed to make me feel better?!”

Craig’s expression flattened. “Tweek—”

“No!” He pointed a finger at Craig accusingly. “First you keep giving me presents and now you’re afraid to have an opinion? What is going on with you, man?”

“I’m just trying to appreciate my boyfriend!” Craig slammed his locker shut. “Is that a crime?”

“You always appreciate me!” Tweek screeched back, which by Craig’s estimates made this the most backwards argument of all time.

“Then what the fuck is the problem?”

“I don’t know!” Tweeks’s anger faltered then, his eyes wet and shining with hurt. Craig kicked himself for not seeing it before; Tweek had a temper, but his outbursts were almost always motivated by a deeper cause.

“I don’t know,” Tweek repeated, his voice catching on the words in a way that went straight to Craig’s heart. He lowered his arms, the anger seeming to drain out of him and turn into something more defeated. “Because you won’t tell me.”

“Look, Tweek—I…” Craig grappled for words. What could he do? Tweek deserved the truth, but if Craig came clean now they’d probably break up right on the spot.

“Craig.” Tweek’s tone was almost pleading now. “If—if you did something…”

“I didn’t!” Craig said desperately. He’d _really_ handled this wrong if Tweek thought he was doing damage control. With Tweek’s imagination, who knew what wild scenarios he’d dreamed up?

“Then what’s changed?”

Craig wanted nothing more than to take Tweek’s hands and explain everything then and there, but the fear of losing him kept Craig rooted to the spot. Seconds ticked by, but in the end, the ringing of the bell made the decision for him. Tweek was only willing to be so late to class, and he shot Craig one last unmistakably disappointed look before he turned and walked away. As the crowd around them began to dissipate, Craig could have sworn he saw Lola smirking at him, but it wasn’t her he was angry with. No, he knew exactly who to blame.

* * *

Craig found Cartman not far from their homeroom, humming some stupid song under his breath like everything was right with the world.

“I want my money back,” Craig said. “None of that bullshit you told me works.”

Cartman scoffed. “Don’t tell _me_ it doesn’t work. I saw Kyle this morning and he was practically begging to suck your dick.”

“It works on _your_ dipshit friends. Meanwhile, Tweek is more pissed at me than ever.”

“I told you not to talk to Tweek yet, didn’t I?” Cartman asked, rolling his eyes.

“It’s kind of hard to avoid him when we go to the same goddamn school!”

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Cartman put a hand on Craig’s shoulder like they were old friends. “You see, Craig, relationships are complicated.”

“No shit.”

“The truth is, the skills I taught you will save your ass with most people, but a boyfriend?” Cartman shook his head. “He’ll catch on eventually. It’ll get less and less effective each time until one day? He gets tired of your shit altogether.”

“Then what was the fucking point of any of this?”

“The point, dumbass, is that you have to switch to something more advanced. It’s simple science, Craig. If you don’t want him to be mad at you, you have to convince him your problems are always his fault.”

“What?” Craig opened his mouth, tongue-tied with disbelief. Not even one part of that sentence was remotely okay.

“It’s foolproof. No matter what you do, he’ll be the one crawling back to you for forgiveness.”

“Tell me you’re joking.”

“In a way, you’re lucky. I mean, it’s fucking _Tweek_. There’s gotta be all kinds of stuff he’s insecure about. You’ve just gotta make that work to your advantage.”

Craig’s stomach twisted with dread. He didn’t want to hear another word of this, but as usual, Cartman didn’t know when to stop.

“Start with the obvious. Tell him that being so jittery all the goddamn time is stressing you out and messing up your day. Seriously, you’ve got a goldmine to work with here. It’s not like he’s getting any skinnier, either, hanging out at that coffee shop—"

Craig didn’t realize he’d thrown a punch until he heard the _bang_ of Cartman’s back colliding with the lockers and felt the sting reverberating through his fist.

“What the fuck!” Cartman clutched his nose, staggering back to glare at Craig. “I was trying to _help_ you, you goddamn psycho!”

Craig might have tried to live up to the insult, but before he could make another move the gym teacher was grabbing his arms and hauling him back. Craig went limp almost immediately, the urge to fight fading away just as quickly as it came. There was no point to trying anymore, anyway.

* * *

“You think that just because _your_ holiday is over you can start assaulting people in my school?!” Craig had lost track of just how long PC Principal had been at it somewhere around the time his dad had been called in, but now they were officially in the ‘pacing around the room in outrage’ stage of the lecture. Hopefully that meant he was close to running out of steam. “That shit’s not gonna fly here, bro!”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Thomas muttered under his breath, just loud enough for his son to hear. Craig figured he’d learned his lesson about trying to actually contradict the principal when his _“boys that age get in fights all the time”_ comment had earned him a solid five minute rant about gendered assumptions.

For Craig’s part, it was all easy enough to tune out. Normally he would have been glad to know his dad had his back, but not even that could cheer Craig up at this point. Trying to fix things with Tweek hadn’t accomplished anything but hurting him and nearly turning Craig into a monster. Now his last shot was blown and it was only a matter of time until they were officially through. PC Principal could give him detention for the rest of his life, for all Craig cared. He couldn’t possibly feel any worse.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you how hard this time of year can be for students who come from non-traditional families.” PC Principal settled back down behind his desk, something Craig took as a sign this was almost over. “I’ve been informed by the counselor that when the student refused to respond to your comments about his mother, you then resorted to violence.”

So that was the story Cartman was selling this time. Craig wondered why he’d even bothered to lie when he wouldn’t have gotten in trouble either way.

“Except,” PC Principal’s shades slipped down just enough for him to meet Craig’s eyes from over the glasses, “the student in question is Eric Cartman.”

Craig recognized the opening; this was his opportunity to throw Cartman under the bus and keep himself out of trouble. By now even PC Principal had been around for long enough to understand that nothing involving Cartman was ever what it seemed on the surface.

For once, though, Craig couldn’t do it. “It wasn’t his fault. I knew exactly what he was like and I still chose to listen to him anyway.”

PC Principal nodded once and pushed his sunglasses back up. “That’s mature, Craig. Unfortunately, maturity isn’t gonna keep you out of two weeks of detention, effective tomorrow.”

Figuring they were done here, Craig reached for the backpack he’d dropped by his seat. His dad could sort out any remaining details. Craig just wanted to go home.

Before he got up, however, the principal caught Craig’s eyes again. “Look, Craig. Today was a mistake, but this doesn’t have to be a big setback. Mrs. Nelson’s been talking about you this week—she thinks you’re really turning things around.”

“She’s wrong,” Craig said. People didn’t really change, not like in the movies. Grand gestures didn’t transform you overnight. Scrooge was probably right back to being a prick by New Year’s. Craig climbed down from his chair, fishing his hat out of his backpack and pulling it down over his head as he made his way to the door. “I’m the same person I’ve always been.”

* * *

Tweek sat on the ground, his back pressed against the lockers as he watched the last few students slowly trickle out of the building. The final bell had rung more than half an hour ago, and by now even some of the after school clubs were wrapping up and leaving the hallways empty.

He twisted the hem of his shirt between his fingers, eyes fixed on the door to the principal’s office. Craig had been in there an awfully long time. Common sense said that Tweek should just give up and go home—especially after how Craig had acted earlier—but he was determined to wait it out. He might have been mad about Craig being a jerk to him, but the worry he felt easily outweighed the anger. Craig had done a lot of weird things over the last few days, but up and punching someone was probably the most out of character. Contrary to what Craig's bravado and carefully cultivated reputation often led people to think, he rarely got into serious trouble. In fact, Tweek was pretty sure that _he_ was the only person Craig had ever actually fought with.

It especially didn’t make sense for Craig to have attacked _Cartman_. Sure, Cartman was about as close to universally despised as a person could get, but his presence was also something everyone in South Park had a lot of experience tolerating. In fact, Craig was usually the biggest advocate for why it was useless to go against him. Arguing with Cartman was like arguing with a brick wall, he’d said—if brick walls could be incredibly racist and manipulative. Besides, they’d been putting up with Cartman for years. What could he have possibly said to Craig this time that was any different than his usual insults?

The office door finally swung open and Tweek leapt to his feet, but halted once he saw Thomas follow Craig out, unsure if he’d be welcome. The principal must have been really pissed to have made Craig’s dad come down. Tweek took some solace in the fact that Thomas didn’t look like he was angry, but then again he had a worryingly lax attitude when it came to Craig getting into fights. It didn’t take long for Thomas to spot Tweek hesitating in the hall, but to Tweek’s relief he smiled, almost like he was proud of Tweek for being there. That was all the motivation Tweek needed to run up to them.

“Craig!” he cried. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Craig answered with even less passion than usual. His eyes were fixed straight ahead and he was holding his right hand carefully. “It wasn’t a real fight. I just hit him like an idiot.”

“That little bastard will think twice about running his mouth at Craig again,” Thomas said, almost cheerfully.

Tweek waited for a better explanation, but none came as the three of them made their way towards the exit. Craig was silent the entire time, stubbornly refusing to look at anyone. The return of Craig’s chullo had made him seem more like his old self from a distance, but up close it was easy to see that something was seriously wrong. From the tension in the way he carried himself to the set of his jaw, Craig practically radiated misery. His mouth was turned down in a solemn frown, and if Tweek didn’t know any better, he would have sworn that Craig was on the verge of tears.

“Your mom’s not gonna be too happy you got in trouble again, kiddo,” Thomas said, pushing open the main doors as the group stepped outside. Craig lifted his shoulders in a barely perceptible shrug and Thomas shot Tweek an apologetic look. “We can give Tweek a ride home, but you’re not gonna be allowed to have visitors for a while.”

Tweek’s disappointment at not getting any alone time with Craig must have been obvious because Thomas quickly added, “Hey, why don’t you kids wait here while I bring the car around?” He pretended to peer off into the distance. “Of course, I parked on the other side of the parking lot. Way over there. So it might take me a few minutes. Since I have to walk. _All the way_ to the other side of the parking lot.”

Craig didn’t respond, but Tweek immediately caught on and smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Mr. Tucker.”

As Thomas walked out of sight, the boys lingered by the school entryway.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” Tweek said. Thomas was being understanding, but their time to talk was limited. Craig was most likely going to end up grounded once he got home, and trying to communicate through texts and stolen moments at school had already proven to be a disaster. If they were going to sort this out, it was now or never.

Craig must have realized it too, because after a moment he said, “We’re supposed to break up.”

“Supposed to?” Tweek flinched. He glanced in the direction Thomas had walked off in but dismissed the idea almost immediately. If Craig’s family was trying to force them apart, he sure hadn’t been acting like it. “Says who?”

Craig sighed. “Remember the device Heidi had that could predict the future? The girls in detention the other day had another one. They asked it if we should be together and it said no.”

Of all the things Tweek had been afraid Craig would say—and trust him, he'd had some elaborate theories—it definitely wasn’t _that_. The idea that their relationship was doomed probably should have terrified him, but mostly he just felt confused. As awful as the prediction was, it didn’t do much to explain Craig’s behavior. It was like being handed only one piece of a puzzle.

“Okay…” Tweek said, as if he were mentally putting that idea away on a shelf to come back to later. “But what’s that got to do with you punching Cartman and acting so weird?”

“I know I’m not always the easiest person to get along with.” Craig shuffled his feet, nudging at bits of snow with his shoes. “So whatever went wrong was probably my fault.”

“Craig,” Tweek said, his tone equal parts fond and admonishing. “You get mad at me all the time, man.”

“Not _break up_ mad.” Craig made it sound like there was some important distinction there, even though Tweek didn’t really get it. “I thought if I tried to be a less shitty person then we’d be able to stay together.” Craig dropped his head, crossing his arms over himself protectively. “But it didn’t work. I’m sorry, Tweek.”

Like most things involving Craig Tucker, Tweek thought the explanation was both sweet and incredibly stupid at the same time. Why was Craig so concerned about the future, anyway? Tweek was an expert at worrying, but even he felt it was hard to get too wrapped up in _maybes_ and _somedays_ when making it to the end of any given week in South Park was nothing short of a miracle. Forever was a distant, far away concept. What was real was Craig, standing here and now, hurt and sad because someone had made him feel like he wasn’t good enough. There was no way Tweek could let that stand.

Tweek reached out to put a hand on Craig’s shoulder, but Craig still didn’t look up.

“Craig…” How could he explain that Craig meant way more to him than any prediction ever could? From the way Craig seemed to be trying to disappear under his hat, it was clearly going to take something drastic to get through to him. Then again… words had never been Craig’s preferred method of expression. Impulsively, before he could lose his nerve, Tweek leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

The whole thing was over so fast it could barely be considered a kiss, but it sure succeeded at getting Craig’s attention. Craig’s head shot up, his eyes practically popping out of his skull as a blush spread across his cheeks.

Tweek was sure his own face was even redder, but he curled his shaking hands into fists and stood his ground. “Screw the future!”

Craig blinked at him owlishly, somewhere between stunned and flustered as if .02 seconds of lip contact had completely short-circuited his brain. “What?”

“You heard me!” Tweek said. There was no backing out now. “If I’m happy and you’re happy, then who cares what any stupid fortune teller says?”

For a long moment Craig stared back at him in disbelief. Then, slowly, cautiously, something in his expression began to relax. “I _did_ wonder how they got another one those devices so fast.”

Tweek could have laughed—leave it to Craig to try and logic his way out of this. Instead, though, he grinned, happy to help his boyfriend along. “Who says they even know how to work it right, anyway?”

“That’s true. We’d really need to see one of their predictions come true to be sure it’s accurate.” Craig let out a shaky breath and then reached for Tweek’s hand. The move lacked his usual confidence, but it was definitely a step forward. "Sorry for getting so carried away."

“It’s okay,” Tweek said. Later, they’d have a nice long talk about how Craig should actually _tell him_ things instead of bottling up his feelings until they practically drive him crazy, but for now Tweek was content to watch the tension that had haunted Craig for the last two days slowly melt away. There was, however, one thing he needed to say that couldn’t wait. “You know I like you the way you are, right? If I didn’t then we wouldn’t be together.” And then, before their talk could reach a level of sappiness that would leave them both embarrassed for hours he added, “But I won’t complain if you wanna keep bringing me candy every day.”

“No way,” Craig replied automatically. “It’s your turn now, babe. I expect to be really impressed on Valentine’s Day."

Tweek laughed, feeling some of his own unease dissipate. Craig was always such a grounding presence that it was easy to forget that sometimes he needed to be pulled back down to earth too, and it made something flutter in Tweek's chest to know he could be the one to do it. Craig squeezed Tweek's hand and smiled at him, warm and genuine in a way he never showed to anyone else—like just being near him made Craig feel happier. It was enough to make Tweek think that maybe forever didn’t seem like that long after all.

* * *

“We’re not breaking up.”

The sudden interruption made Wendy nearly drop her fork. She turned her head to find Tweek and Craig standing at the end of the lunch table, hands clasped and glaring down at the girls with the nervous determination of a couple of soldiers who’d just risked their lives by crossing enemy lines.

“Congratulations?” Wendy offered.

“So we don’t care about what your stupid future-telling devices have to say,” Craig huffed. “You guys aren't even professionals."

 _Oh._ Wendy had heard about some of the other kids messing with Craig in detention earlier in the week, but she’d never imagined that he’d taken it seriously enough to still be upset days later. Sadly, what _didn’t_ surprise her was that Craig and Tweek thought they were accomplishing something by confronting a group of girls who hadn’t even been there. For some reason, boys always seemed to think they were some kind of monolithic hivemind.

“Do you know how ridiculous you sound?” asked Isla.

Wendy knew they had every right to tell the two of them to get lost, but something made her hesitate. Craig was putting up a brave front now, but the fact that he was trying so hard proved that he’d been shaken. If South Park's favorite couple broke up over a stupid prank then the rest of the town would never forgive her for not stopping it when she had the chance.

“He’s onto us, Isla.” Wendy held out her hand. “Give me the device.”

Isla blinked in confusion, but acquiesced a moment later and produced a beat up fortune teller from the bottom of her bag. It wasn’t the same one that had been used against Craig in detention, but it was obvious from his reaction that he couldn’t tell the difference. Both boys flinched back like they honestly believed a folded up piece of paper was going to spring to life and kill them as soon as Wendy sat it on the table.

“Jesus Christ!” Tweek practically shrieked. “Be careful with that!”

“If you got a bad prediction,” Wendy said, “then the best thing we can do is put it to the test."

“We don’t want you to!” Craig said, but the curious, somewhat panicked look in his eyes told a different story. Funny, she’d never pegged him as the type to be a true believer in the supernatural.

“Will Craig and Tweek be together forever?” Wendy asked, situating the fortune teller on her fingers and waving her free hand over the top like it was a crystal ball. “Three, five, red.” Squished and bent from its time buried in Isla’s backpack, it was easy enough for Wendy to see under the battered creases and find the answer she was looking for. For dramatic effect she lifted the tab as slowly as possible while the boys all but held their breath. “It says… _absolutely_!”

Some of Tweek’s tension seemed to fade, but Craig’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “That’s not the same way they did it before.”

“Maybe before they were just messing with you,” Bebe suggested.

“Or you’re just messing with us now!” Tweek shot back.

“Hmm,” Wendy said coolly. “I guess there’s no way to be sure. You’ll just have to go back to living your lives the way you normally would.”

“That’s what we were gonna do anyway!” Tweek said. With a defiant huff, he and Craig whirled around and managed to stomp off without breaking their hold on one another’s hands. It was almost kind of impressive.

“I’ve got a question for it,” Bebe said, leaning over Wendy’s shoulder. “Is _every_ boy in our school this dumb?”

Wendy didn’t need any special instructions to lift to the correct tab: _Definitely yes!_


End file.
